Page 83 of I'm Your Guy
“Because you’re an impatient grump who doesn’t listen?”
“Sure. But also because I didn’t like that guy.”
“Why?” Carter throws his arms out wide. “He was super nice.”
“Yeah, he was. He wanted in your tight jeans.”
Carter puts his hands on his hips. “You are high. He was just a talker. While I was waiting for you, we discovered that we like the same gay bars.”
“Huh.” Bars I’ve never been to, or even thought about before. Meeting Carter has sort of punctured a hole through the bubble I live in. It’s like I’m peeking out for the first time, and I don’t want to stop. “I was jealous,” I admit. “Couldn’t wait to get away from him.”
“Okay,” Carter says with a shrug. “That doesn’t seem very relevant since you and I are supposed to be friends. Also, it doesn’t help us get the tree unstuck from your front door.”
“You’re right on both accounts. Just being honest.”
He sighs. “What’s our play, here? We could remove some branches.”
“Fuck no. Back up.”
“Why?”
“Out of the way.” I wave a hand, motioning him away from the tree. “This is how we fix problems in New Jersey.”
Carter steps to the side, a worried look on his face.
I brace my hands against the trunk, give a furious shout, and push with everything I’ve got.
The tree pops out of the doorway and goes shooting off the porch, right into the snow.
Carter looks up at me in wonder. “That was kind of hot, in an angry sort of way.”
I’ve heard worse words to describe me. “Shall we try again?”
“We’ll do it my way this time,” he says. “Turn the tree around. Let’s go.”
* * *
His way works great. As I should have guessed.
And he’s done a great job sourcing the decorations. We string the tree with colored lights, and then hang the ornaments. There’s even a tree skirt for underneath.
He’s placed candles between two stocking hooks on the mantle. There’s even a centerpiece for the coffee table, made of pine boughs and cranberries. Mom can sit here on the sofa with her teacup, admiring the tree.
“You really are the best,” I say from the ladder where I’m putting the star on top of the tree. “I told you I wanted to host Christmas, and you made that happen for me. Mom will love it. And so do I.”
Carter collapses on the sofa and gazes up at the tree. “Thank you. I’m pretty proud of the way it’s all coming together. And I’m glad I made the deadline. I mean, I still have some details to finish here and there. But it’s under control.”
“It really is. You want some dinner? I feel like ordering something. My treat.”
“I’d love some. But I’ll pay my share.”
“Whatever makes you comfortable.” Although I really just want to feed the man who’s done so much for me. Maybe someday he’ll let me. “Fried chicken?”
“Hell yes.”
After placing the order, I fetch a bottle of wine from my kitchen and two glasses. I pour him one without asking.
Sometimes a guy just likes to drink wine in front of the Christmas tree with his hot interior designer.
